'Don't you hear what I say? Go back and sit down. I came here to talk business, not to make a fool of myself. It's all your fault, and I hate you for it--you and your silly questions.' But the young man stood where he was, in spite of the dangerous sparkle that shone in his visitor's wet eyes. A frown gathered on his brow. 'Jennie,' he said slowly, 'are you playing with me again?' The swift anger that blazed up in her face, reddening her cheeks, dried the tears. 'How _dare_ you say such a thing to me!' she cried hotly. 'Do you flatter yourself that, because I came here to talk business, I have also some personal interest in you? Surely even _your_ self-conceit doesn't run so far as that!' Wentworth stood silent, and Miss Brewster picked up her parasol, scattering, in her haste, the other articles on the floor. If she expected Wentworth to put them on the table again, she was disappointed, for, although his eyes were upon her, his thoughts were far away upon the Atlantic Ocean. 'I shall not stay here to be insulted,' she cried resentfully, bringing Wentworth's thoughts back with a rush to London again. 'It is intolerable that you should use such an expression to me. Playing with you indeed!' 'I had no intention of insulting you, Miss Brewster.' 'What is it but an insult to use such a phrase? It implies that I either care for you, or----' 'And do you?' 'Do I what?' 'Do you care for me?' Jennie shook out the lace fringes of her parasol; and smoothed them with some precision. Her eyes were bent on what she was doing; consequently, they did not meet those of her questioner. 'I care for you as a friend, of course,' she said at last, still giving much attention to the parasol. 'If I had not looked on you as a friend, I would not have come here to consult with you, would I?' 'No, I suppose not. Well, I am sorry I used the words that displeased you, and now, if you will permit it, we will go on with the consultation.' 'It wasn't a pretty thing to say.' 'I'm afraid I'm not good at saying pretty things.' 'You used to be.' The parasol being arranged to her liking, she glanced up at him. 'Still, you said you were sorry, and that's all a man can say--or a woman either, for that's what I said myself when I came in. Now, if you will pick up those things from the floor--thanks--we will talk about the mine.' Wentworth seated himself again, and said; 'Well, what is it you wish to know about the mine?' 'Nothing at all.' 'But you said you wanted information.' 'What a funny reason to give! And how a man misses all the fine points of a conversation! No; just because I asked for information, you might have known that was not what I really wanted.' 'I'm afraid I'm very stupid. I hate to ask boldly what you did want, but I would like to know.' 'I wanted a vote of confidence. I told you I was sorry because of a certain episode. I wished to see if you trusted me, and I found you didn't. There!'